


gotta get out

by eighthcaramel



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Enjoy!, M/M, i dont know where i might go with this????, just realized i have a thing for song titles as story titles, maybe some malum too idfk, will probably edit the tags and ratings to better fit the story later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 13:48:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2734841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eighthcaramel/pseuds/eighthcaramel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the world ends, you wouldn’t see it coming. You’d be living your life like you’re supposed to do. You could be doing something important, like moving out from a terrible home. Maybe you’d be at a wedding, or perhaps a funeral. Or maybe it’s something simple, like watching TV, or eating cereal. Hell, maybe you’re running for your life for some reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gotta get out

The world will end. When that will happen is unknown. The sky would become a dull shade of blue, dirt catching rides on the wind. At night, the stars would lose their shine. Windows would shatter, buildings torn down with an earsplitting _crash_. Cities would become ruins, farms would become nowhere. It would pour black rain and snow ashes. The middle of summer could turn into a freezing winter of dust.

When the world ends, you wouldn’t see it coming. You’d be living your life like you’re supposed to do. You could be doing something important, like moving out from a terrible home. Maybe you’d be at a wedding, or perhaps a funeral. Or maybe it’s something simple, like watching TV, or eating cereal. Hell, maybe you’re running for your life for some reason.

And then _boom_. You’re unconscious and when you wake up, you find that you’re covered in ashes. You see that there is no longer a roof above your head, and that the skyscrapers had been burnt down. You’re in the middle of nowhere.

The world will end. Whether it’s only your world or everyone’s is unknown.

 

 

The soles of Ashton’s bare feet slapped hardly against the concrete sidewalk. They were sore, and he thinks that he’ll have multiple cuts by the time he gets home. His breathing is labored, and despite the fact his entire body is ridden with fatigue, he doesn’t stop. He can’t.

Because if he does, they’ll catch him.

Meaning if he stops, he’s sure he’ll die. If not, put into a coma. And break a bone or two.

Ashton Fletcher Irwin has been bullied nearly his entire life. Ever since he could remember. He’s currently in high school, and his grades are no longer spectacular. His mother had always told him he used to be a straight A student, but all of a sudden he just “stopped caring.” Yeah, if ‘stopped caring’ means getting the shit beaten out of you every day.

He’s been running for the past – what, half an hour? He’s completely exhausted, and he’s taken so many twists and turns he’s sure he’s lost. He doesn’t even know if he lost his tormentors yet. He pushes past people as sweat pours waterfalls down his back, ignoring their curious glances, and he knows he should stop running soon if he doesn’t want to pass out.

Thing is, if he does, he’ll probably pass out anyways.

He makes a sharp turn down an alley, stopping to lean against the brick wall of the building. He falls against it, landing on the dirt ground with a thud. He’s breathing so hard, his chest heaving and aching horribly. He wants to cry. He wants to cry, and have his mother hold him and tell him it’s alright.

He wants to go home.

His vision is blurry due to tears beading at the corners of his eyes as he attempts to look at his surroundings. He notes that the sun is still up, adding to the heat he feels from exhaustion. As he stands on shaky feet, he leans against the wall with a clammy hand and looks out to the road.

There’s not very many people out, and cars occasionally pass. He tries to clear his mind, realizing he still doesn’t have shoes or his backpack. He slides his hand into his pocket, finding nothing inside.

His phone is in his backpack.

He can’t help the very loud groan that escapes his throat. The couple that’s passing turn to look at his with curious eyes, but don’t stop walking. They continue on their way.

Ashton steps out of the alley, glancing to his left and right. To his left, a street that is for the most part empty, shops on each side, and to his right, the same exact thing. He doesn’t know where he is, but looking upwards, he sees that the buildings are pretty damn tall.

And, unfortunately, he is, in fact, lost.

He nibbles on his lower lip, wondering what he should do. He could go into one of the shops and ask to use the phone. He doesn’t have any cash on him, so he can’t use a payphone.

He sighs heavily, having finally caught enough breath. He knows he should start walking because if he just stands there, he won’t even have a chance of getting home.

He really doesn’t want to walk though. His feet are still aching.

But he really wants to go home.

But his feet hurt.

But he wants his mom.

But he lost his shoes.

He also lost his phone, but unfortunately you don’t always get what you want in life.

Ashton peels his sore foot off the sidewalk and takes his first step to the right, since that’s where he came from. Well, where he thinks he came from. He’s still pretty disoriented. His feet are throbbing, and with each step comes great pain. He’s already getting exhausted again, and there’s a growing headache making itself known. As he’s walking, his nose catches the scent of something he can’t place after several minutes. . .

Until he realizes it’s burning.

He doesn’t know what it is, but something’s burning.

He stops walking, looking upwards at the sky. No sign of smoke anywhere. He looks around, peering through the windows he can see into from his position on the sidewalk. No sign of fire anywhere.

Ashton wants it to be only his imagination, but he gets the feeling it isn’t. It seems that the other few people that were out in the street noticed as well, for when Ashton looked at them, they were looking everywhere as well, brows creased.

And suddenly there’s a loud, abnormal sound. It’s shrill, cutting through the air and making Ashton cover his ears in a desperate attempt to make it stop. It doesn’t help any.

The last thing he remembers is looking up to the sky and seeing a bright, bright light. It scorches his eyes, and his body feels like it’s been set aflame. It hurts. It hurts so damn bad. The feeling is like the muscles underneath his skin are bubbling, and the searing heat is unbearable. It’s hard to breathe, his lungs burning as they try to search for clean air. Instead, they inhale an immense amount of smoke. It was suffocating, and he thinks his skin is melting off of him and falling in large chunks before he is suddenly unconscious.

 

 

When Ashton awakes, it’s freezing cold, and the sun is nowhere in sight, hiding behind thick gray clouds. Having shed his jacket a long time ago, he sits up, rubbing his arms to conduct heat. Finally noticing his surroundings, his mouth turns agape and his eyes bulge at the sight.

Earlier, there had been tall buildings and skyscrapers piercing the sky, but now they seem to have fallen. In their places are gigantic piles of rubble and ash, brown and grayish in color. It’s as if they had collapsed inwards, crushing whatever was inside them. Ashton lies in the center of one of the piles, and glancing down at himself, he finds that he’s covered in dust. He’s surprised he isn’t covered in any burns, judging from the experience he had earlier. He stands up on his wobbly legs, immediately wanting to sit back down. He resists the urge and dusts himself off until he sees that there is still dust falling. Looking around, he finds none of the other people are there anymore. He scans the ground for any sign of life, only to come up with nothing. They might’ve been crushed by the falling buildings, or perhaps they have disintegrated in the ridiculous amount of heat. He seems to be the only survivor of whatever just happened.

His mind races to his family. Images of them dead, his siblings’ small and fragile bodies crushed by the roof of the house and his mother burning alive. Panicking, he knows he has to find them. He has to make sure they’re all safe.

Though, his heart sinks like an anchor after he remembers he seems to be the only one left, and if he’s the only one left, that means his family is probably dead. They’re dead, and he didn’t even get to say farewell. He didn’t get to say he loved them one last time.

Ashton lets out a choked sob, observing his surroundings once more. Tears begin to fall freely down his cheeks. He takes a hesitant step forward, in the direction of what he thinks might be his house. His feet still hurt, and his body still feels like it’s on fire. It’s as if needles have been pushed through him, causing his limbs to throb in pain with each movement. He shivers, once again rubbing his arms. His tears blur his vision, so he pauses his movements to rub at his eyes. They suddenly burn due to the dust sticking to his fingers. It’s not even comparable to the amount of pain he endured a while ago.

Speaking of which, how long was he out? He’s remembers blacking out earlier, and that caused him to be unable to see whatever happened. He shudders at the memory of the indescribable pain he felt.

He begins walking, eager to find his most likely ruined house. Maybe his family had somehow survived, just like he had. He’s sure that whatever made him feel like that should’ve killed him. Yet oddly he survived. He attempted to think happy thoughts, albeit the negatives still outweighed the positives. Hot tears still pour down his face.

 

 

Several aching steps later, Ashton’s sure he’s in the area of his house. He noted that as he walked, there hadn’t been any source of life, nor any form of remains. His eyes search for the familiar outside of his house in the form of rubbish. The grey bricks, the black shingled roof, etcetera.

He currently stands in front of another pile of rubble, staring down at the clutter of grey bricks and the damaged black parts of roof. The once pristine white chimney and fireplace is now fallen, no longer able to provide a sense of warmth and security.

Ashton’s house.

He’s sure it’s his. He’s somehow able to recognize the exterior, only now it’s in a hideous disarray of rocks and debris. It saddens him, and his face that had dried of tears earlier, is now wet once more. He falls to his knees, body wracked violently with sobs.

He’s been like that for at least an hour. He’d been so eager to find his family, and now he’s positive that they’re all dead. However, his hopes rise once more when an idea makes its way into his brain.

Maybe his family _had_ lived through this horrible accident, if it was even an accident at all. Maybe they’d survived, and he had missed the search party that had found them. Perhaps they had seen him and thought he was dead, so they left him there. Or, maybe they hadn’t even found him yet.

He hopes his family is safe. He hopes that they’re all safe, and eating canned food in a rescue shelter with other families that had been in the area.

Ashton tries to stop his tears from flowing, only to fail miserably. He screams, hands flying to his hair in an attempt to harm himself. He quickly stands up and scrambles to the pile of rubble, picking up pieces small enough and easy enough to lift. He throws them, aiming for different pieces of junk laying somewhere else nearby. The pieces he throws shatter on impact. He doesn’t stop screaming in the entire process.

Poor Ashton lets himself fall down again, landing harder on his knees this time. He sobs and wails, lifting his arms and punching the filthy dirt ground beneath him. His hands begin to feel sore, and as his punching ends, he remembers his body still pounding in agony.

As Ashton begins to hyperventilate, his mind makes an endeavor to calm down. His body goes into a panic, making his efforts go unnoticed. He tries to slow his breathing, and his body finally lets itself become tranquil, aside from the soreness that was still there. He’s not tranquil mentally, though. Mentally, he’s an emotional wreck.

He’s extremely tired, both mentally and physically, but he doesn’t let himself go to sleep. His eyelids threaten to close as he becomes torn at whether he should stay in one spot or try to find a safe place. Eventually, he decides to start walking. He stands, ignoring the pain and fatigue he feels, and begins his journey.


End file.
